


Us

by Sukila



Category: Hello Charlotte (Video Games)
Genre: (Which I tried for the first time), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Emotional Manipulation, Heavy Angst, Inspired by Music, Slow Dancing, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Typing Quirks, i'M SAD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 11:54:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17365451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sukila/pseuds/Sukila
Summary: “You don’t get it, do you?” He could barely hear over the static of the illusion, drowning his senses in horror as, for the first time he could remember, she smiled, warmth in her eyes as the crease between her eyebrows faded away, and she finally looked her age; like a kid.“I wanted to live, Charles. Us.”“You aren’t making any sense. Can we just...stop? Stop whatever this is? I’ll...I’ll forget about C- Vincent, just...just tell me what to do.” He pleaded, turning desperate as his hands tried to reach her-Only to pass straight through.“Scarlett, please…!” He sobbed, clutching his head and losing the battle to stay standing as his legs buckled beneath him, setting off a resounding splash!This was wrong.It was all so wrong.Somebody...please…End this story.





	Us

**Author's Note:**

> Semi-inspired by rachie's cover of My R.

The glaring red pigment mocks him from the rooftop, stained with the remnants of a faint smile and the startling hold of gravity. He remembers reaching out, hand being caught by _hers_ with a scowl, a quip well-prepared to lower him back to his level.

 

Yet here she is, staring at the railing on her knees, shaken to her core, and unable to look away.

 

She sits before him, the same perfect posture, the same straightness to her shoulders, but lacking in any explanation for why she was even still there, wasting time. Because she- _they_ are, looking down on a fallen angel of a corpse, seconds away from snapping out of shock and back into the nothingness that is their collective existence.

 

And yet, here they were, wasting those precious hours of possible productivity, waiting for the sun to set so they wouldn’t have to walk past and _see it all over again.  
_

 

They can’t, they just _can’t._ The idea of that same silver hair streaming down and catching the sunlight at the ends, showing off the faintest glimmers of brown left behind. Ribbon fluttering in the harsh wind as the dive began, lacking in grace, but with no room for repeats in the final performance.

 

Even that is too much, so he risks a glance at the wayward tulpa, “...Scarlett?”

 

He can practically hear the shallow breaths of the nonexistent companion, watching as she cupped her ears with her hands as if to blot out the oppressive silence as it buzzed in their ears. It seemed to carry on for hours, her desperate gasps becoming louder and louder until it was all that was left, only for him to realise he himself had added to them long before.

 

“Why…?” She finally asked, voice nothing more than a strained whisper, it haunted the air for a moment before sniffles finally began to sound out, and she suddenly turned to him, face a mess of snot and tears, “Why are humans so _stupid?!”_

 

He...doesn’t even know how to _begin_ to answer something like that, but she doesn’t wait for a response to come regardless.

 

“I want you to live…! I-I want you...I wanted you to-!” Her rant cuts off with a frustrated growl, and he flinched back, feeling her emotions echo in his headspace.

 

_I want you to live._

 

The tears turn into sobs, loud, like screams of the dying, but he doesn’t know what she _even wants anymore,_ and that scares him to no end.

 

Her hands are griping the railing, head bowed, water dripping down and making pitter-patters on the concrete to match the light flash storm letting down sprinkles of rain, “The trial...the end of it, the end of _me,”_ she turns back, hair beginning to drip at the ends as showers turned to pours, “I gave you everything I could! Motivation, devotion, time for your dumb stories! I did what you made me for! What else do you _want,_ Charles?!”

 

His chest began to hurt, heart beating faster and faster as shivers were born from both the cold of being soaked, and the sheer tension in his body, “I don’t understand…”

 

She deflated a bit, appearing almost hurt as she lifted a leg up, and onto the railing, swinging herself over it until she was standing

_on_

_the_

_edge._

 

“Wait-!” He started, barely believing the word as it came forth to try and bring a tormentor away from the end he’d just seen V- _Another_ reach.

 

He blinked and she was there, each staring a whole into the other through the metal rails as though it were a prison cell neither knew who was in. He swore he could almost see it in a million different settings:

Scarlett with a gun, fingers poised on the trigger as she held it to her head.

Scarlett with a rope, tying a careful knot.

Scarlett with a bottle, desperately swallowing the contents.

 

“You don’t get it, do you?” He could barely hear over the static of the illusion, drowning his senses in horror as, for the first time he could remember, she smiled, warmth in her eyes as the crease between her eyebrows faded away, and she finally looked her age; like a kid.

 

“ _I_ wanted to live, Charles. _Us.”_

 

“You aren’t making any sense. Can we just...stop? Stop whatever this is? I’ll...I’ll forget about C- Vincent, just...just tell me what to _do.”_ He pleaded, turning desperate as his hands tried to reach her-

_**Only to pass straight through.** _

 

The warmth didn’t fade into iron again, but instead turned to mush as she averted her gaze, making her appear...guilty, almost, “I’m sorry.”

 

“Scarlett, _please…!”_ He sobbed, clutching his head and losing the battle to stay standing as his legs buckled beneath him, setting off a resounding _splash!_

 

_This was wrong._

 

“I have to stay alive for her, don’t I?!”

 

_It was all_ **_so_ ** _wrong._

 

“I have to pass the trial!”

 

_Somebody...please…_

 

“I have to, _right?!”_

 

_End this story._

 

The world seemed to disappear into white space as she stepped backwards into nothingness, standing atop the air as if not realising the mistake, drawing his gaze with that same alien sort of smile, glimmering with sorrow, “We _can’t,”_ her hand slowly extended towards him, as if trying to reach through the thick sludge of shock and sorrow coating his body, “I don’t think we ever could…”

 

His hand clasped her wrist, preventing it from reaching his hair, and he shook in frustration, squeezing tightly, “Then what was the _point?!”_

 

He caught a glimpse of an aborted shrug before Scarlett looked down through the empty space below, spotting the corpse yet again, and sighed, “Maybe a god was playing with us.”

 

_“Right,”_ he choked out, letting her nudge at his cheek with little reaction.

 

She looks at him with...something else, akin to sympathy or even helplessness as hysteria faded into nothing more than grief, for not only a friend, but himself as well.

 

A long swath of silence drowned out the storm, the world still nothing more than white, before the splotch of red broke the silence.

 

“...Do you remember his chapter about stargazing?”

 

He shot her a look of confusion, “C- Vincent’s?”

 

“Yeah… What did he say about it, in the comment responses, I mean.”

 

“He…” Charles paused, choking on an attempt to keep the tears back, “He said it was a place for the dead, for them to...to see other worlds. A little like dancing.”

 

“Dancing, huh…? We could do that, then.”

 

“...What?”

 

She knelt down before him, body half-phased through the metal as she brushed the tears from his cheek, and offered it to him, “Let’s go stargazing.”

 

“...My mother…she-”

 

“Is going to _die,_ Charles. She’s going to _die,_ and leave you all alone, do you want that?”

 

He averts his eyes, hunching over a bit more to avoid her hands, “...I...I don’t…”

 

Her hand seized his, carefully netting them together, and pulling him forwards, off the railings, and into the air. He froze, looking down in horror as the wind brushed at their feet for the single moment Scarlett allowed before she began to lead them in a close sort of waltz, letting his head rest on her shoulder.

 

It felt...warm.

 

He smiled softly as the rain seemed to fade, memories poured out of his head, and a much more wicked smirk took over the unseen face of his partner.

 

And although he’d died that day, only one boy was found, the blood washed away, and his body limp, yet with a steady breath still in his chest.

 

And in his fever dreams, the pain was soothed by a man with an umbrella who appeared far too familiar, and a red-haired woman in a soaked, white dress he’d swore he’d seen in his nightmares before.


End file.
